Lord of Ashes (Steelhaven: Book Three) (29 page)

In the clearing at the centre of the crowd, Kaira saw Amon Tugha for the first time. He was formidable, of that there was no doubt, but Kaira was undeterred. She had come to die. All that mattered was how she did it.

From the corner of her eye she saw Janessa kneeling on the ground at the Elharim’s feet, her mass of red curls unmistakable.

But Kaira was focused on only one man.

She raised her sword, crying Vorena’s name as she hurtled straight for him. The massive spear in the warlord’s hand thrust forward, impaling the charging horse through the chest and halting its gallop. Kaira went down with the screeching steed, rolling clear as she did so.

She was on her feet in an instant. Her weapon lost. A Khurta ran from the crowd, attempting to skewer her on his own spear, but she twisted, wrenching the weapon from his grip and spinning it deftly, the spearhead taking him in the throat.

Kaira’s eyes were wide to the danger now. Khurtas were crowded all around and they moved forward, their weapons drawn, hunger in their eyes.

Amon Tugha raised his arm, speaking in the guttural Khurtic tongue before hauling his weapon from deep within the dead stallion’s body. He held out a hand and beckoned for Kaira to come forward. A silent challenge between warriors.

This was how she would die. At the hands of the Elharim warlord, defending the life of her queen, no matter how forlorn her chance of victory.

It would be a good death.

As she stepped forward, as though heralding her final battle, the ground began to tremble.

M
errick had no idea how many Wyvern Guard had leapt on a horse to follow him. It was too dark to see as they rode across the battlefield towards the Khurtic camp, but he hoped it was more than had ridden out to destroy those fire ships. The camp over the rise was full of savage madmen who would boil them alive and shit in their skulls given half the chance. There’d definitely need to be more than twenty of them if they were going to make it through this in one piece.

He tried not to think about it too much. The prospect of someone shitting in his skull, boiled alive or not, didn’t fill him with any joy. Instead he thought about how good he’d look when he got back to Steelhaven carrying the queen. ‘What a fucking hero that Ryder is,’ they’d say. ‘He must be the greatest swordsman that ever lived. Let’s pour our adoration, and not a little gold, all over him. And maybe throw in a couple of dancing girls.’

Don’t be a fucking idiot, Ryder. You’re not coming back from this. You’re going to die in a horrific way and your head’s going to end up on the end of a pointy stick.

He’d always hated pointy sticks and made a vow to avoid them at all costs, just as his horse hit the top of a ridge and galloped into the Khurtic camp. In the light of the campfires he could see there was little resistance. He could also see that there were definitely less than twenty of them riding in to face thousands of Khurtas. But at least Cormach was here. If anyone was going to get killed before Merrick it was bound to be that mad fucker, right?

Right?

They galloped between the tents, maybe a dozen of them. Someone screamed over to the left and was instantly silenced. Merrick could only hope it was a Khurta on the receiving end of a Wyvern Guard sword and not the other way around, but he was too enrapt in finding the queen and Kaira to look.

A crowd came into view. There was a commotion in their midst but Merrick couldn’t see what it was. He urged his warhorse on and it grunted as he dug his spurs in twice for good measure.

A storm of confusion erupted as he struck the mob of Khurtas. Men and horses screamed, and the jarring impact rattled his teeth. Merrick struck out with his blade and felt it hit something but he couldn’t tell what. He kicked the destrier again, urging it through the crowd. To his left someone roared above the din as more of the Wyvern Guard joined the fray.

In a rush of clarity he burst through the mess of Khurtas. By the light of a massive pyre he could see Queen Janessa on her knees, Kaira standing with a spear ready to defend her and the biggest bastard he had ever seen watching like this was all some kind of sport.

His eyes glowed gold, his body gleaming in the firelight, covered in arcane markings, an enormous spear held in one bucket-sized hand. It could only be Amon Tugha. No other man on earth could have made Merrick want to shit himself so readily.

He had no time to think as more of the Wyvern Guard burst through the line of Khurtas.

‘Protect the queen,’ someone shouted.

In response Merrick urged his steed forward. He aimed at Janessa, intent on hauling her onto the back of his warhorse and riding off into the sunrise, but before he could reach her Cormach had spurred his own mount in the way. Janessa grasped his hand and leapt up.

Merrick almost cursed the bastard, looking all heroic, that white bear pelt making him stand out like some sort of legendary hero of old.

Then Amon Tugha made his move.

He raised that massive spear far too quickly for a weapon of its size. The warlord looked powerful, all right, but even a man with that much muscle should have struggled with such a weapon. With measured grace he drew back for a throw, aiming at Cormach as he attempted to flee.

Before he knew what he was doing Merrick stuck spurs to flanks again. His warhorse bolted forward as he moved to block the throw. The spear strike that was aimed at Cormach hit Merrick’s shield, piercing the top and slicing a gash in his pauldron. His horse reared back as Amon Tugha wrenched the weapon back, pulling the shield from Merrick’s grip.

‘Get the fuck out of here,’ he screamed at Cormach, who needed no further encouragement, spurring his mount and galloping southwards.

The rest of the Wyvern Guard had made it through now, and they flanked Cormach as he made for safety.

Merrick would have happily joined them, but he was too busy staring in awe at the seven-foot Elharim warlord who had him fixed in a gaze that would have wilted flowers. Amon Tugha drew back his spear once more. This time Merrick had no shield, not that it would have done him any good anyway.

You wanted to be a hero, Ryder. Well, are you happy now? They’ll be singing songs about how you died saving the queen for years.

The Elharim suddenly ducked as a spear almost took him in the head, missing by mere inches. Someone jumped on the back of Merrick’s horse, the panic of it almost making him squeal, but he quickly realised he was not under attack.

‘Ride!’ shouted Kaira as she gripped the buckles of his breastplate.

Merrick didn’t need asking twice and neither did his steed as it bolted after the rest of the Wyvern Guard. They’d made a gap in the crowd and he headed straight for it. Broken and stunned Khurtas littered the way and Merrick’s horse seemed only too eager to trample them further into the dirt.

‘Down!’ screamed Kaira, grabbing Merrick’s head and pulling it to the side as Amon Tugha’s massive spear careered through the air after them. It thudded into the ground some way ahead of their path and Merrick stuck spurs to horse again, more eager than ever to leave this place behind.

Their steed did its best to navigate the maze of hide tents as Merrick headed back towards the city, but they trampled several on the way. A Khurta came roaring at them but Merrick’s blade was faster. He could hear screams all around and his heart leapt as he reached the edge of the camp, with only an open field between him and safety.

Arrows zipped overhead as they made their way down onto the plain. In front, Merrick could see the remaining Wyvern Guard carrying the queen back to safety. He counted only half of their original dozen.

When they’d galloped hard enough to beat the range of the Khurtic arrows, Merrick slowed his horse down to a trot.

‘You all right?’ he asked over his shoulder.

Kaira nodded, breathless. ‘I’m unhurt.’

‘If you’d wanted to take on the entire Khurtic army single-handed you should just have said. I would have stood on the wall and waved you off.’

She didn’t seem to see the funny side.

The Wyvern Guard eventually rode through the Stone Gate. If Merrick had expected a rapturous welcome he was sorely disappointed; no one seemed in any particular hurry to ask them what in the hells they were doing charging out into the night. Janessa had already climbed down from Cormach’s horse, her cloak drawn about her head.

‘Get down,’ Kaira ordered. Merrick didn’t have the energy to argue, clambering down as Kaira beckoned for Janessa to join her on the mount. ‘No one must know about this,’ she said as the queen climbed up behind her. Then she kicked the steed and headed south towards the palace.

‘Don’t mention it. All in a day’s work,’ Merrick said under his breath, watching the pair of them go.

When he got back to the compound, close to the wall where the Wyvern Guard had been posted, he saw his father waiting. Each of the half-dozen he came back with were patted on the shoulder as Tannick commended them for their bravery. Even Cormach Whoreson was given an approving nod. Merrick smiled at his father, expecting much the same. He should have known better.

‘What the bloody hells were you thinking?’ said Tannick, keeping his voice low.

He doesn’t want to embarrass you in front of the other lads, at least. Something to be thankful for.

‘I was thinking the queen was in danger,’ Merrick replied, fast losing patience with his father’s constant coddling. ‘I was thinking that her life is a little bit more important than mine and it was probably worth risking to save her.’

Not strictly true – if you’d had time to think you probably wouldn’t have gone at all, but no one has to know that.

Tannick nodded. ‘Aye, well you’re back in one piece at least. Well done.’

‘Thanks,’ said Merrick as his father walked away. It struck him that the old man hadn’t seemed overly concerned about the men who hadn’t come back, but over the last few days they’d lost plenty of brothers to the enemy. It was clear Tannick couldn’t mourn them all.

Merrick took some water from a barrel, feeling it cool his parched throat. With all the arse-clenching fear he hadn’t realised just how thirsty he was. As he looked around at the other lads he saw Cormach taking the stairway up to the battlements.

He obviously wants to be alone. He has just saved the queen, after all. He wants to bask in his glory by himself. You definitely shouldn’t interrupt him whilst he’s locked in quiet reflection. He hates you as well, so you’d be a stupid moron if you tried to make conversation now.

Merrick took the stairs after Cormach.

The Whoreson was waiting on the walkway, staring out over the battlements as the sun rose in the east. Merrick casually walked up and stood beside him, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, like this was some kind of accident.

‘I’m sorry for the brothers we lost,’ said Merrick, unsure why he was even bothering with this conversation. ‘I know you knew them longer than me. It must be hard that we’ve lost so many.’

Cormach glanced over at him, then back out towards the rising sun. ‘Not as hard as you might think,’ he replied.

Not quite as unpleasant a reply as you were expecting, Ryder. At least he didn’t call you a cunt.

‘But these are your brothers. Weren’t you brought up with them? Aren’t you all bound by blood and honour?’

Cormach looked at him now, and for the first time there was the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. ‘Don’t have any brothers, do you?’

‘No, I, er—’

‘And if you did would you want them calling you Whoreson all the time? The only reason they call me nothing worse is they know I could end every last one of them.’

‘I see,’ said Merrick, remembering well when he was on the receiving end of Cormach’s swordsmanship and having no doubt he could do exactly what he claimed. ‘So that’s not a term of endearment then?’

Cormach barked a laugh at that. ‘What the fuck do you think?’

‘I thought it might be something to do with your prowess in the whorehouse. Maybe a curse all your enemies shout before you—’

‘My mother was a cheap backstreet whore from Silverwall. It’s no big secret.’

Merrick was a little taken aback by the candid answer, but not all that surprised. ‘But how did you go from that to being the first sword of the Wyvern Guard?’

Cormach fixed him with an amused look.

‘Your father didn’t pick his recruits from the highborn. Did you think he trawled the provinces looking for little lordlings to join his crusade? Every last man of us is scum off the streets. Lads no one would miss. Tannick took us all when we were young enough to obey him without question.’

‘And your mother was happy with that?’

Cormach’s expression darkened. ‘Lord Marshal Tannick bought me for ten copper pennies.’

And you thought he was a bastard for leaving you all alone with your mother when you were nothing but a child.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Merrick.

‘Don’t be. It was a generous offer. She only asked for five, by all accounts.’

‘But still, I’m sorry. That’s an awful—’

‘What the fuck are you sorry about? Why are we even talking? You don’t give two shits about me and I definitely couldn’t give a flying bollock about you. We’ll stand on the wall and we’ll watch each other’s backs and tonight or tomorrow or some other time soon we’ll both be dead. We don’t have to be cocking friends to do it.’

With that he turned and walked on down the battlements.

Merrick watched for a while as that mad bastard made his way along the wall, and for the life of him he couldn’t work out why they had to be friends either.

N
obul was exhausted but it wouldn’t beat him. It was a matter of not giving in to it, of ignoring the aches and fatigue, but when you were dead on your feet all the ignoring in the world wouldn’t do you any good. He’d slept at least, but that had probably been a mistake. When you woke, that’s when all the hours of swinging a hammer and taking a beating would catch up with you. The stiffness would seep into your joints, the cuts would sting that much more and the bruises would be so sore you couldn’t even touch them. Whatever mad rush of blood you’d had the night before that kept the pain away was gone and all you had to stop yourself weeping from the hurt was the power of your will.